


Shallow

by supermagicalshounen, viktorstardust



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Begging, Canon-Typical Violence, Dialogue Heavy, Fighting, I think that's everything, Jealousy, Multi, Oral Sex, Pre-Series, Trans Male Character, Trans Pickles the Drummer, Vaginal Sex, all my stuff is who am i kidding, angry jerking off, both ships kinda vague i apologize, but magnus kind of took over, condom is used which is rare for my fics lmao, hi i added a second chapter, like very early on in dethklok's career, lots of swearing, lowkey cuckolding, magnus has the first of many diva episodes, magnus projecting heavily onto pickles, the inherent eroticism of mic sharing, this was originally gonna be more nickles focused, violence but not too bad, wasn't gonna post this but it flopped on tumblr so why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:02:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27927202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supermagicalshounen/pseuds/supermagicalshounen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/viktorstardust/pseuds/viktorstardust
Summary: Let the record state that Magnus Hammersmith is not mad, he just thinks it's funny how-
Relationships: Nathan Explosion/Magnus Hammersmith, Nathan Explosion/Pickles the Drummer
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	1. Shallow

**Author's Note:**

> Aye this flopped on tumblr so I was goaded into putting it here. So uh here's my introduction to the AO3 MTL fandom. Uh hi. I hope you enjoy this bc I'm actually kinda happy with how it turned out. Don't think too much abt the title it was a placeholder and now I'm too attached to change it.

Let the record state that Magnus Hammersmith did not intend for any of this to happen. 

They’d never intended on Pickles usurping Magnus as backup vocalist, but Nathan figured since Pickles had been a vocalist previously and his voice was more distinct, he was a better fit. That much had been fine with Magnus, who preferred to devote himself to his guitar anyway. But this… This was a little much. 

“No, it’s never gonna work if we don’t come in at the same time.” Pickles sighs, getting up from his drum kit and walking over to Nathan. “Look, just keep yer eyes on me when we do it.” He reaches forward, hands touching Nathan’s as he holds the mic with him. 

Let the record state that Magnus Hammersmith does not have feelings for Nathan Explosion. They've just become used to each other over the time they’ve spent together trying to get Dethklok off the ground. Nathan has been the only one able to handle Magnus. Nobody else has the right dedication or vision to keep up with Magnus’ lofty standards. 

And sometimes if cramped hotel rooms throw them together into one bed, and they’ve both been drinking, that’s just been due to circumstance. Nothing deeper to being tangled together on a twin sized bed, nothing deeper to whiskey flavored tongues pressing together under the flickering light of a lamp whose bulb should have been changed long ago, nothing deeper to heaving chests and desperate grunts in the fevered heat of drunken passion. 

Let the record state that Magnus Hammersmith is absolutely not jealous. He just thinks it’s embarrassing how shamelessly Pickles flirts with their frontman. 

“You don’t have to hold the mic for me, I’m not a kid.”

“I’m not holdin’ it for ya. I’m holdin’ it with ya.” Pickles rolls his eyes, smiling good naturedly. “We gotta sync up if we want this t’sound any good. We’ll go slower this time. Don’t think about how it sounds, just think about us keepin’ pace.” Nathan nods in response and Pickles turns to Magnus, pushing teased red hair off of his shoulder to see him better. “Okay, let’s try this again, but a little slower. Ready?” Magnus grunts in response, placing his fingers on the strings. He starts to play, a little slower this time. 

Let the record state that Magnus Hammersmith did not write this song to be a duet. Pickles was the one who swooped in with his  _ brilliant _ idea, and Nathan never turns Pickles’ ideas down. He insists Pickles knows what he’s talking about, but Magnus thinks he knows more. He wrote the damn song after all. But he hates arguing over relatively small details, so he had let Pickles do what he thought was best. 

Nathan has to crouch slightly so they’re on the same level, and their mouths are separated only by the microphone and scarcely an inch of space on each side. Magnus bites his tongue to keep from telling them to get a room, and continues playing. 

Nathan’s eyes are fixed on Pickles’ lips as they sing, trying to stay with him as the song picks up. They’re doing alright so far, and once they get through the first section of the song, Pickles gestures for Magnus to stop. 

“Yer doin’ great!” He pats Nathan on the shoulder encouragingly. “Just pay attention to when I breathe in, because there’s not a whole lotta room to do it in this one.” Nathan nods, and they stand there, talking about nothing, faces still so close they look like they’re whispering about something. 

“Magnus, you okay?” Nathan asks, taking him by surprise. “You look pissed.”

“I’m fine.” Magnus says, letting out a short huff. “I just need a drink.” He sets his guitar down on a chair and leaves, walking to the makeshift kitchen in their practice space, not even asking if they want anything. 

He stands by the fridge, beer in hand, and tries not to think about the way Nathan’s eyes lingered on Pickles’ lips a little too long after they finished singing. Tries not to think of the way their fingers locked together around the mic, as if it was all too natural for them. Tries not to think about the way it burns him up inside how they look at each other, how they laugh together like old friends, how Nathan gushes about him nonstop when he isn’t around. 

Magnus peers into the room as he finishes off the latter half of his beer, and nearly rolls his eyes all the way back into his skull. Pickles is standing half-behind-half-beside Nathan at his drums, hands on his, guiding him with the sticks to show him how it works. Like something out of a cheap romance movie. 

“So that’s the easy part. But now ya gotta multitask.” Pickles slides one leg forward between Nathan’s to hit the pedal. Magnus can see Nathan blushing from here, and it makes him sick. He pulls a cigarette out of his shirt pocket, lighting it and taking a deep drag. 

“So how did you even learn the drums?” Nathan asks. 

“‘S a helluva lot easier than the guitar. Just kinda paid attention to our drummer in Snakes n’ Barrels when he played. Easy enough to pick up on.” Pickles shrugs, keeping his eyes on the drums. 

_ Smug fucking bastard. _ Magnus thinks, scoffing to himself.  _ False modest piece of- _

“Magnus, you almost done in there?” Pickles calls, walking away from Nathan and his drums and back over to the mic. “I wanna try ‘n go through that last one a couple more times.” Magnus crushes the empty beer can in his hand on a countertop, tossing it in the trash and walking back in. He tries to maintain his composure as he puts his guitar back on. 

“Yeah, let’s just fuckin’ go.” He grunts, cigarette still in his mouth. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Nathan asks again, walking back to Pickles and taking the microphone off its stand. 

“I’m fucking fine. Just go.” He starts playing, hardly giving the two of them time to get ready, and they start up again. 

Let the record state that Magnus Hammersmith never really thought they needed a drummer. He’s firmly convinced that he and Nathan could have been great all on their own, vocals and guitar, and they didn’t need some bigshot from a has-been glam rock band coming in and telling Magnus how to do things. Now Nathan is suggesting they get a bassist, and maybe someone on keyboard, or a second guitarist. Magnus is convinced Pickles is the one giving him these ideas. 

“Dude, slow down. Yer goin’ way faster than normal.” Pickles breaks his reverie, and Magnus stops all at once, giving him a venomous look. 

“Why don’t you write the fuckin’ songs then if you know so goddamn much?” He asks, a sudden outburst of bitterness that takes both of the other two men by surprise. 

“Jesus, calm down. What’s up with you today?” Nathan asks, letting go of the microphone and leaving it in Pickles’ hands. 

“Yeah, ya don’t normally act like this…” Pickles gives him a look of concern, and that only pisses Magnus off more. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know! Maybe I’m fucking sick of watching you-” he points an accusatory finger at the drummer, “-practically riding his dick all the goddamn time to get your way!”

“Dude, what?” Pickles looks genuinely confused, holding up his hands. “Where’s this comin’ from?”

“You know what the fuck I mean. You fucking flirting with Nathan all the time to change shit about  _ our _ band!”

“I’m not  _ flirtin’  _ with anybody. And I’m not tryin’ to change shit! I make suggestions, y’know, like someone in a fuckin’  _ band _ .” Pickles’ gaze turns from sympathetic and confused to defensive and angry on a dime. 

“Guys, come on-” Nathan starts, stepping between them. 

“No, clearly he’s got a fuckin’ problem with me. I wanna hear what it is.” Pickles says, stepping past the vocalist and towards Magnus. “Go on, let’s fuckin’ hear it.” He crosses his arms, challenging the guitarist. 

“Oh don’t act so fucking clueless.” Magnus scoffs, setting his guitar aside. “I see the way you hang off of Nathan. Making  _ my _ songs duets just so you can get close to him, holding his hands to show him your fucking drums, telling him we need more people in the band just to fuel your ego. It’s pathetic.”

“Y’know, not everyone thinks they’re God like you do, Magnus.” Pickles replies, his eyes cold. “I don’t know where you got the idea that I’m out to get you, but it’s not fuckin’ true in the slightest. I’m not some evil mastermind or whatever the fuck. I’m just a guy in a band, and I’m tryin’ to participate. I never expect my ideas to be fuckin’ accepted without question. The only reason  _ anyone’s _ suggestions get by is because we  _ all fuckin’ agree on them _ . And I’m not out here tryin’ to seduce Nate or whatever! Maybe you’re just projectin’ because you’re fuckin’ jealous of me or whatever.” Nathan, face flushed and eyes wide, puts a hand on each of their shoulders. 

“Guys, stop it! Nobody’s taking control of the band on their own, and nobody’s trying to fuck anybody! Just calm the fuck down and-!” Nathan is shoved aside by Magnus, who lurches forward to swing at Pickles. The drummer steps back at the last second, looking shocked. 

“Oh you’re fuckin’  _ dead _ , asshole.” Pickles shoves Nathan back and lunges at Magnus, the two of them grabbing each other’s throats. Magnus easily overpowers him, pinning Pickles to the ground and choking him with one hand, using the other to take the nearly-forgotten cigarette out of his mouth and grind it into the drummer’s arm. Pickles cries out and swings a leg up, kneeing Magnus in the dick and forcing a pained grunt out of Magnus, who lets go of him. The drummer shoves him off, getting on top of him and winding back a fist that Magnus manages to catch, inches from his face. 

“I’m so fucking sick of you. Always fuckin’ getting whatever you want. You think you’re fucking better than me?” Magnus growls, using his free hand to take the other man by surprise and punch him directly in the nose. There’s a sickening crunch, and Pickles falls back, eyes watering hard.

“I don’t think I’m better than anyone, douchebag!” Pickles cries, bleary eyes keeping him from seeing as Magnus gets above him again, about to deliver another blow. “Yer the one actin’ like a psycho jealous girlfriend outta nowhere!” The words have hardly finished leaving Pickles’ mouth before Magnus punches him again, this time in the mouth. There’s a splurt of blood against his knuckles, and Magnus feels satisfied somewhere deep down inside. He feels like he’s inflicting pain that’s been earned, causing bloodshed that Pickles has been begging for. He’s about to do it again when strong arms grab him from behind, easily pulling him off of the drummer and holding him still at last.

“GUYS.” Nathan shouts, apparently finally having had enough. He sighs, frustrated, and turns Magnus to face him. “Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you today? You’re acting crazy.” Pickles sits up behind them, assessing the damage done to his face and spitting blood onto the floor.

“Are you kidding me? You two are all fucking over each other!” Magnus tries to wrench free of Nathan’s grip, to stop those piercing green eyes from looking into him, but it’s no use. “Every time you share a mic you look like you’re about to french each other! I leave the room for two minutes and you’re holding hands and feeling each other up by the drum kit! It’s disgusting!” Nathan’s face reddens at the accusation, but his expression remains stony. He shoves Magnus aside, not bothering to look at him anymore.

“Go the fuck home. You’re done for today.”

“Oh come on, you can’t be serious.”

“I am. Go home, get the stick out of your ass or whatever, and stop acting like a fucking lunatic. You’re just pissing everyone off.” He walks over to Pickles, kneeling down to assess the damage Magnus has done to him. Magnus clenches his jaw.

“Fine. I get it. You two have fun  _ practicing _ .” He practically spits the words as he grabs his guitar and turns to leave. He can hear their voices faintly as he walks out, every blood cell in his veins feeling like fire.

“...don’t know why he’s acting like this…”

“...s’fine...dealt with diva shit before…”

“...sure you’re okay…?”

“...m’fine, Nate’n…worry too much…”

Let the record state that Magnus Hammersmith has never once in his life been jealous, especially not now, as he turns back for a moment to see Pickles smiling sheepishly as Nathan holds his face in his hands as if he’s made of glass. Especially not when he sees the way their eyes meet and expressions soften slightly before he turns around. Especially not when he punches a hole in the cheap plaster of the wall in his apartment when he gets home.


	2. Too Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title: Magnus the cuckold sits at home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So head's up I write Pickles as trans and as a transmasc guy myself, I use words that I'm personally comfortable with to describe his situation. These include "cunt", "cock", and "clit" kinda interchangeably. Not a big thing but I figured it'd warrant a heads up.

“Jeez, I’m not made of glass, Nate. Ya don’t gotta carry me.”

“Well, he punched you in the nose. That can be pretty disorienting… And your head hit the floor pretty hard…” it’s a flimsy excuse and they both know it. Nathan has Pickles in his arms, Princess-carrying him to the bathroom to get him cleaned up. He sets him down on the dingy counter, and Pickles immediately goes to look at the cigarette burn on his arm. Ashes still remain, and he blows them off as best he can, brushing off what he can’t. Even that gentle brushing against the burn makes him wince. It’s not too big or deep, but it still smarts. 

Nathan is rooting through the medicine cabinet for peroxide, or frankly anything that means avoiding a trip to the doctor that they can’t afford. 

“He’s got a mean swing, that’s fer fuckin’ sure.” Pickles chuckles, tentatively wiping his mouth of the blood from his split lip. Thankfully his teeth still seem to be intact. 

“Yeah…” Nathan lets out an apologetic sigh as he sets down a half-empty bottle of rubbing alcohol and goes to grab a roll of toilet paper. “I don’t know what’s with him. I mean, you know him. He’s never really been like this before.”

“Eh, it happens. Can’t say the guys and I didn’t have our fair share of fights when I was in SnB.” 

“That’s good to know, I guess.” Nathan snorts, grabbing a wad of toilet paper and turning to his bandmate. “Okay, I’m just gonna try and wipe some of this off so I can clean it better. Just uh… try to hold still, I guess.”

***

Magnus feels like breaking his guitar. He feels like stabbing something or someone and it’s driving him insane. His blood is boiling over and it’s all _his_ fucking fault. He grunts in frustration and slams his fist into the cheap plaster of his apartment wall, easily sinking a hole into it. He’s too mad to even think about how much that’s gonna cost to fix. He’s already in his kitchenette, grabbing every bottle of booze in the cabinet, determined to drink himself into a coma. 

***

“Ow…”

“Sorry. I’m trying to be gentle.”

“‘S fine. Just really smarts.” 

“Yeah, burns will do that.” Nathan chuckles, trying to keep the mood relatively light as he dabs at the small circular burn on Pickles’ arm with alcohol. 

“I’m just glad he didn’t go fer my eye with that or somethin’. That woulda been fucked up.”

“Yeah.” Nathan can’t think of anything else to add as he throws away that wad of toilet paper, grabbing another and dousing it with alcohol, this time holding Pickles’ chin still in his hand. Their eyes meet for a moment, green gazing into green, and then they flick away again. Nathan gently starts to wipe the blood off of Pickles’ nose. 

***

Magnus doesn’t remember laying down in his bed. He doesn’t remember finishing off the large bottle of whiskey that had been in his cabinet. But here he lays, on top of his moth-eaten comforter with an empty Jack Daniel’s bottle in his hand. His vision swims, awash with memories of red and the lingering ghost of pain where Pickles kneed him. His hand drifts down, rubbing over the sore area, and he bites the inside of his cheek. 

The image of Pickles underneath him, taken by surprise and glaring at him venomously, sits in his mind. The feeling of cartilage cracking under his knuckles, the gush of blood against his fist… His heart races as he starts to palm himself through his jeans. 

And then his brain decides to assault him with the image of Nathan pinning Pickles down instead. 

***

Nathan’s heart is racing and his face is flushed as he finishes wiping the blood off of his friend’s quickly bruising nose. 

“So uh… y’think it’s broken?” Pickles asks as Nathan grabs another wad of toilet paper. 

“Maybe. Dunno. I’m not a doctor.” Nathan holds his chin again, starting to dab at the blood on Pickles’ lower lip. It’s quiet for a long, long moment before the drummer speaks. 

“What the fuck was up with him actin’ all jealous?” Ah, there’s the million dollar question. Nathan swallows hard. 

“Dunno.” Nathan shrugs, “Maybe he likes you.”

“Yeah right.” Pickles gives him that lopsided smirk that makes Nathan’s stomach flip. “C’mon, he’s bein’ possessive about you. You guys were a band before me joinin’. He’s probably got a thing for ya.” Pickles winks knowingly, and Nathan bites his tongue. Pickles doesn’t know how close to right he is. Or maybe he does and he’s just good at playing coy. 

“No idea why he thinks you and me are fucking, though.” Nathan chuckles breathily, trying to change the subject. 

“Ah, c’mahn. You sayin’ you wouldn’t fuck me?”

***

Magnus curses under his breath as his cock twitches against his palm. His mind assaults him with the image of Nathan pinning their drummer down, large hands around his thin neck. He wonders if they’re doing that now, or maybe something worse. Magnus grits his teeth, and tries not to imagine them kissing, blood on their lips and tongues and everything. Blood that Magnus caused Pickles to shed. 

Fuck. 

He unzips his pants, telling himself that he’s only letting this happen because he’s very drunk.

***

“H-Huh?” Nathan’s taken aback, eyes wide and face surely flushed. Pickles laughs. 

“Ah, I’m just fuckin’ with ya.” He pats Nathan’s shoulder. “Yer cute when ya blush.”

“I’m not…”

“What, cute or blushin’?”

“Both…”

“Nah, you’re definitely blushin’.” Pickles flicks Nathan’s forehead. “Don’t worry, I’d only let ya fuck me if ya asked nicely.” 

“Ha… Yeah.” Nathan’s never been sure how to act around extroverted types like Pickles. He’s bad at picking up on when someone’s joking about things like this. That was one thing about Magnus. He was always direct and straightforward with his feelings. He didn’t play games and hide them. 

At least, he didn’t used to. 

“Hey Nate?”

“Yeah?”

“Yer hand’s on my thigh.”

***

Magnus groans as his hand wraps around his half-hard cock. Fuck. He hates knowing he got hard thinking about those two idiots going behind his back. He wonders if they’re talking about him right now. If they’re laughing about him being so blatantly possessive and weird. 

Magnus grunts, rubbing his thumb over the head of his cock. There’s already precum there, and that just makes him angrier. Fuck. Fuck them. Stupid, selfish assholes. 

He picks up the pace just a little. 

***

“Shit, sorry! I don’t know how that happened. Fuck.” Nathan yanks his hand away like he’s touched a hot stove. 

“‘S fine dude. Not a big deal.” Pickles snickers. “God, yer jumpy.” Nathan shrugs, keeping his eyes down as he grabs another wad of toilet paper. As he moves in to clean more blood off of the drummer, Pickles catches Nathan’s hand gently by the wrist. 

“Something uh… wrong?” Nathan asks, clenching his jaw. 

“Nah. Can I try somethin’ though?” Pickles is looking at him intently, and Nathan feels his heart start to beat a mile a minute. Pickles is probably fucking with him. Right?

“Uh… sure?” He’s not sure what’s going to happen next. Pickles reaches up to hold Nathan’s face in his hands. He tenses up automatically in response, some foreign feeling prickling up his spine. His eyes squeeze shut, his nose scrunching up. He hears a small breath of amusement from Pickles, feels that breath on his face. 

It’s not at all what Nathan expects it to be. 

He’s kissed before, sure, but that was all sloppy drunken hazes. More like an obligatory preface to the better parts than an expression of affection. 

But this is something new. He almost doesn’t know what it is at first, because it’s so soft and gentle. He feels himself relax slightly against it. A moment of tenderness in a day filled with roughness and pain. Nathan’s hands move forward, resting on Pickles’ thighs once again, but this time he notices the texture of his jeans and the gentle dip of his thighs beneath the weight of his hands. 

Nathan presses hesitantly back against the softness on his lips, not wanting to break the fragile atmosphere of the moment or hurt Pickles’ busted lip, but wanting to embrace it all the same. Pickles’s hands move up, running through Nathan’s smooth hair, and Nathan slides his hands further up the other man’s thighs to pull him closer. The feeling is gone for only a moment before it comes back, faint and feather-light against the corner of his mouth, and then it’s gone for real. 

“You ever kissed anyone before?” Pickles asks, his voice low and quiet.

“Not like that…” Nathan replies, his breath slightly shaky. He can’t make himself open his eyes to face the reality staring into his face with bright green eyes. 

“Heh. I shoulda figured.” He tucks a strand of Nathan’s hair behind his ear. “The way ya tensed up an’ all.” 

“I didn’t know what you were gonna do...”

“I think ya did. Deep down.” Pickles pats his cheek, chuckling softly. “...We can do it again if ya want...”

***

Magnus feels dizzy, his mind racing with possibilities as he tries to drag this feeling out as best he can. He knows when he’s this drunk, he’ll be able to cum exactly once before he passes out or gets whiskey dick. Whichever comes first. Ah, the joys of his mid-30s. 

He stops stroking himself, his chest heaving with the effort of holding back. He fucking hates edging himself, but he doesn’t want to cum this fast from thinking about something this embarrassing. Pickles is closer in age to him, but somehow Magnus doubts he has the same problem. Just one more reason to hate him, he figures.

How far have they gone without him there? Are they on the floor, feeling each other up in an eager frenzy, or is Nathan too much of a pussy to make a move that’s worth a damn? If anyone’s going to initiate it, he figures it’s Pickles, and he hates that he knows that.

He growls in frustration and starts stroking his cock again.

***

Nathan is just as gentle when he kisses him the second time, not wanting to kill the mood by drawing attention to Pickle’s hurt lip or bump his nose. The other man’s hands move down, rubbing along his upper arms before coming to a stop on his shoulders.

“Here, it’s gonna hurt my face no matter what if we keep doin’ that…” Pickles huffs, pulling Nathan down and tilting his head to expose his neck. “Don’t worry about leavin’ hickeys. I don’t mind.” He says, his pulse pounding in his throat. Nathan can feel it against his lips as he closes in, tasting sweat when he kisses the drummer’s neck. He’s hesitant at first, but feeling Pickles nudge his hip slightly, he opens his mouth a little more to do it properly, warm tongue making contact with warm skin. Pickles’ breath hitches in his chest, and Nathan takes that as a sign of encouragement. He sucks slightly on his skin, biting a little between his teeth, and Pickles gasps softly. 

“Like this?” Nathan asks.

“Fuckin’... Yeah, dude. Just like that.” Pickles laughs, “Ya don’t gotta stop an’ ask me. When I’m makin’ noises like that, it’s a pretty safe bet I’m havin’ a good time.”

“Just making sure…” Nathan mumbles, before moving back in to bite his neck a lot harder this time, gauging his reaction.

“Oh, _fuck_ -!” Pickles groans, hooking a leg around Nathan’s waist to pull him closer. That’s all the answer he needs.

***

Magnus hisses through his teeth as his orgasm threatens once again to overtake him, and he slows to a stop. He knows he can’t keep doing this, can’t keep dragging it out. He needs to get this over with and out of his system. But something about all of this has his cock throbbing desperately in his hand, overeager like he’s a horny 20-something again. 

Under any other circumstances, he’d be thankful. Right now he’s just furious as he feels his impending orgasm subside, and then starts again. The idea of cumming thinking about Nathan and Pickles there without him, doing exactly what he’d stupidly goaded them into doing, makes him even angrier, but he can’t stop. Precum slicks his cock up thoroughly as he jerks himself off, further proof of his humiliating arousal. 

He can’t make himself think about anything else.

***

Nathan shoves Pickles’ shirt up and over his chest, one hand sliding up his stomach and stopping just short of one of the two horizontal scars not far below his nipples. He’s not sure what’s off limits and what’s not. He looks up at Pickles for permission, and the other man rolls his eyes.

“I got the damn surgery so I’d feel okay with people touchin’ me there. Go ahead, dumbass.” He snickers. Nathan feels like an idiot now, but he does as he’s told, large hands running over the other man’s chest, rough palms brushing against his nipples. Pickles lets out another long, shuddery breath, and leans in to kiss Nathan hungrily again. He makes a small pained noise at the feeling of his lip being touched, but he’s too caught up in the moment to care. He pulls back, a messy strand of drool connecting their lips and tongues for a moment before breaking. “Y’wanna do something better than touchin’ my chest?” Pickles asks. Nathan nods, and watches as the drummer moves to undo his pants, sliding them down and kicking them onto the floor, underwear going with them. He takes one of Nathan’s hands, guiding it down between his legs. He jolts slightly as his fingers brush against warm wetness there, his face heating up.

“Are you sure?” He asks, completely out of his depth at this point.

“Would I be puttin’ yer hand there if I wasn’t?” Pickles cocks an eyebrow, looking amused.

“I don’t know, I just figured I should ask…” Nathan mumbles, looking away.

“Well stop askin’. Just trust me.” Pickles says, running his fingers through Nathan’s hair as if to reassure him. “Y’trust me, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Then just relax ‘n let me take the lead.”

***

Shame and sobriety fill him instantly when he looks down at himself, achingly hard with sweat beading on every part of his exposed flesh. They’re laughing at him. He knows it. In their heads, they are pointing and jeering at this joke of a man, possessive over something he does not own. If he were any other man, he would sit up, realize how stupid this all is. Like schoolyard fights between eighth graders. He’d cum to something else, wash himself off and get into bed with vague reassurances, and the next morning go to rehearsal and make amends, tail between his legs, shaking hands with the man he attacked like a savage dog.

But he’s not that man. He’s Magnus Hammersmith, and his grudges are infinite and volatile. That sense of sobriety dies on his lips, and he goes back to pumping himself to humiliating thoughts. He’s red and tender there already, rough hands twitching over his cock as it betrays him by pulsating happily at the idea of Nathan, locked in sweaty lovemaking with that smug little son of a bitch. 

***

Nathan feels distinctly nervous as the hand on his head pushes him lower. He’s really never done anything like this before, and his heart pounds hard in his chest. It’s not that he doesn’t want to do this, it’s just that he has absolutely no idea how.

Before he realizes it, Pickles’ cunt is right in front of him, thick red hair covering him until he spreads his legs a little more. He grabs a fistful of Nathan’s hair, pulling him closer, and Nathan knows if he wasn’t already on his knees, he’d be falling to them now with arousal. He swallows hard, reaching forward to spread Pickles open slightly.

“So uh… What do I do...?” He asks, figuring it’s better to humiliate himself now by asking rather than later by trying and failing.

“Oh God, I dunno how to describe it…” Pickles laughs. “Uh… Just use yer mouth? That’s really all I can offer. Just kinda try ‘n keep it around here-” He reaches down, showing Nathan his clit. “and ya should be good. That’s where it feels the best, my cock.” 

“R-Right.” Nathan blushes harder, taking a deep breath and leaning in, tongue brushing over Pickles’ tdick. The drummer groans softly in response.

“Yeah, like that…'' He breathes, leaning back against the wall and hiking one leg up on the counter to give Nathan better access. Nathan does it again, and again, trying to find his footing before he starts to really commit. He wraps his lips around it, and Pickles moans loudly, tugging his hair slightly. Nathan feels a chill run down his spine and he keeps going, sucking hard. “Fuck, Nate… Yeah, just like that…” Pickles grunts, pulling him closer and letting out a shaky breath. The boost to his ego spurns him on, and he moves his tongue a little lower to dip into the other man’s entrance. Nathan hasn’t really paid attention to his taste until now, but he doesn’t mind it. It’s on the salty side, but it’s nothing unbearable. He kind of likes it, if he’s being honest with himself. Even if his tongue is already getting a little tired.

He grabs Pickles’ thighs hard for better leverage, and really puts his all into it, thrusting his tongue into him. The drummer arches his back and pulls Nathan’ hair hard, making a loud, desperate noise. 

“FUCK!” He gasps, “Jesus, slow down… ah… I don’t wanna cum yet…” Nathan smirks and reaches up, rubbing a rough thumb over Pickles’ cock again and making him cry out even more. He pulls off, licking his lips.

“You want me to stop?” He asks coyly, letting his breath ghost over Pickles’ soaked cunt.

“Hah… Fuck no…” The redhead tightens his grip on his hair, pulling him in close once again. “You don’t stop until I tell you you can.” He pants. Nathan feels goosebumps rise on his arms, and he starts again. Something about Pickles’ tone demands not to be disobeyed, and Nathan doesn’t particularly want to stop anyway.

***

Magnus tries to tear his mind away from what they’re doing and pick a new game, a new fantasy, but it always goes the same. Images of his own memories with Nathan; those angry, animalistic fights for dominance that more often than not ended in intoxicated dry humping and mumbled curses. How his friend had looked when he wanted something, how he looked when he was fighting just to have it, because Magnus always made it a struggle and they liked that, they worked better like that. 

And then, like an alarm clock killing a dream just as it’s getting good, there’s Pickles. The man Nathan had invited into their dynamic, only to form a new one with him that left Magnus out in the cold. There’s that pang of shame again, when he feels his cock throb between his fingers and leak more precum from the hot wash of humiliation when he imagines the two of them again, lost in the throes of frantic passion. And in his fantasies, he’s always fucking second best. 

***

“Fuck, fuck, okay stop… Hah, Jesus…” Pickles pulls Nathan off, pausing for a moment to let his near-orgasm subside. Nathan licks his lips before wiping his mouth off on his shoulder. He looks up at Pickles for guidance, waiting for his next instruction like an obedient dog. “Y’want me to suck yer dick?” Pickles asks, his face flushed. Nathan stands up, shaking his head.

“I don’t think I’d be able to handle it… I really just wanna fuck you…” He replies, chest heaving as he releases his grip on the drummer’s thighs. 

“Good, me too.” Pickles chuckles. “There’s condoms in one of the cabinets in here, I dunno which one. Sorry t’send ya on a scavenger hunt.”

“It’s fine.” Nathan smirks, starting to root through the cabinets. In all honesty, he probably needs the time to calm down so he doesn’t cum immediately. He finds them quickly enough, pulling one out of the box and ripping the wrapper open. “Why do we have condoms here anyway?” He asks as he puts it on, inspecting it to make sure there are no tears in it.

“I mean, why wouldn’t we?”

“Yeah, fair enough.” Nathan gets into position once he’s satisfied that the condom is in good shape, and rests his cock against Pickles’ entrance. “You ready?” 

“Not yet.” Pickles looks up at him, biting his lip. “I wanna hear ya beg for it.”

***

He’s close. It’s going to happen soon. With his teeth bared like the rabid dog he is, he winds his free hand into the dirty sheets of his bed for leverage, his sharp spine arching just a bit from the intense buildup of pressure he put himself through finally coming to a head. Laughter echoes in his ears. He might as well be on stage at Carnegie Hall from the way he feels so stripped bare and naked in front of an audience all in his head. Magnus has never enjoyed being on the receiving end of mortification, but here he is, a master class at jealous fantasy. His chest burns with the need for release in the form of an orgasm and a cigarette. He can’t let himself do this. It’s going to happen, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to surrender to it. 

He convinces himself of that, that it isn’t prolonging the fantasy as much as it is not wanting to fold and admit defeat, because if he admits defeat, he’s admitting that the idea of his best friend and his drummer fucking each other and laughing at him like high school bullies is about to make him spill over his hands. 

Is Pickles a screamer? Can Nathan look at him after? Is he gonna cum inside? Are there repercussions for cumming inside in this case? Will he come to practice tomorrow and see angry hickeys on Pickles’ neck, will they both stink of sex and sweat? 

Most of all, what the fuck is wrong with him? 

***

“Dude, come on…” Nathan sputters, looking away and feeling his face heat up all over again. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” Pickles grins, reaching up and taking Nathan’s face in his hands to force him to look at him. “C’mahn, it’s not like it’s hard. I just wanna hear ya say how bad you wanna fuck me.”

“What’s with the sudden power trip?”

“It’s not a power trip. I just think it’s hot. C’mahn, I took a real ass beatin’ for ya. It’s the least y’can do.”

“Fucking…” Nathan huffs, swallowing his pride for the moment. “Fine. Fine.” He rubs his cock against Pickles’ wet entrance, his heart pounding in his chest. “Please…” He mutters.

“I can’t hear ya.”

“Oh fuck you.”

“C’mahn, Nate. I know y’can do better’n that.” Pickles laughs, patting his cheek playfully. “Just say it so I can hear.” Nathan lets out a frustrated grunt.

“Please… Let me fuck you…” He begs, a little louder this time, but still shy. “Please, Pickles, I really wanna, and we’re this fuckin’ close, so just… Let me?’ He knows he sounds desperate, but he’s past caring. He just wants to cum. “Please?” He asks once again for good measure.

“Good boy.” Pickles smirks, sliding his hands off of Nathan’s face and leaning back again. “Yeah, y’can fuck me now.” 

The words have hardly left his mouth when Nathan grabs his hips hard and eagerly thrusts into him all at once. Pickles gasps, taken aback by the roughness but not complaining.

“Y’know, I kinda understand why Magnus felt like beating the shit out of you.” He huffs, smiling slightly. Pickles laughs breathlessly as Nathan starts to move.

“Yeah, I have that effect on people.”

***

A pained, strangled sound escapes Magnus’ mouth. He squeezes his eyes shut and is all but fucking his own fist now as that familiar feeling coils up tight in his lower abdomen. Frustrated and oh, so close, his eyes get wet and foggy until the ceiling fan overhead becomes nothing but abstract shapes in a dirty, beige-colored sky. 

To the God he does not believe in, Lord, please don’t let him cry over this. Please let the ache in his heart, the thought of losing the creative birth he and Nathan share and letting Pickles permanently worm his way into what they have, making him Explosion’s fucking side-piece. He hates them. God, he fucking _hates_ them, hates from the very pit in his stomach how weak this makes him feel. Weak, powerless, and for some insane, inexplicable reason, insatiably aroused. It’s not as serious as it feels when he’s about to cum to it, he knows that. Of course he knows that. He will pass out after this, wake up hungover, and realize that he doesn’t give a fuck where Nathan sticks it as long as he can still sing the morning after. But Magnus Hammersmith is nothing if not a man born of theatrics. 

His eyes shoot open wide, his teeth dig into his bottom lip hard enough to taste blood. He’s there before he even has a chance to prepare for it.

***

Nathan feels so desperately, amazingly good as he fucks Pickles, letting out deep growls every time he bottoms out in him, feeling how aroused he is even with the condom on. Everything’s so warm and soft and wet, he knows he probably won’t be able to last long. He takes one hand off the drummer’s hip and moves it down to rub his clit as he fucks him.

“Oh God-” Pickles whimpers suddenly, caught off guard. “Fuckin’ hell, Nate... Warn a guy before ya- _Nngh_ ~!” He’s cut off by his own aroused noises, a shiver running through him. Nathan smirks at finally being able to take control for a moment, and picks up the pace.

“God, I’m fuckin’ close already…” He grunts, feeling that tight coil of arousal in the pit of his stomach.

“Me too… _Fuck_ …” Pickles groans, wrapping his legs around Nathan’s waist to pull him closer. “Maybe I should make you beg t’cum, too…” He teases.

“I’d like to see you fuckin’ try.” Nathan growls, fucking him rougher just to prove his point.

“ _Ah_ ~! Yeah, maybe another time. Yer cute when y’beg…” Even after losing control for a moment, Pickles seems to always find a way to quickly wrestle it back. Nathan can’t think of anything to say to that, so he just keeps fucking him, the lewd noises of skin-on-skin filling the silence. He feels his orgasm creeping up for real now.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum…” He gasps, his thrusts starting to get sloppy.

“Me too… God, Nate, fuckin’ cum with me…” Pickles groans, digging his nails into the other man’s shoulders. Nathan’s breath hitches, and the next thing he knows he’s going over the edge.

“Oh, _Pickles_ …”

“Fuck, _Nate_ ~!”

“God you feel so good, I’m cumming, I’m fucking cumming, NNNGH~!” Nathan’s voice slips into a rough death metal growl.

“Oh yeah, oh fuck, yeah, right fuckin’ there~!” Pickles moans, his chest heaving as he cums, feeling Nathan’s cock twitching inside him. “God, don’t fuckin’ stop! Fuck, YEAH~! YES~! FUCK, _NATHAN_ ~!”

***

“ _FUCK!”_

Magnus practically screams, his head lolling back onto his pillow as he finishes all over his hand in a sloppy, rapturous photo-finish. Panting and making little pained grunts after the almost excruciating edging finally pays off, everything is white with a poisonous cocktail of rage and pleasure for a while. His body’s testing and rocking into it like a man possessed, and he loses track of all the desperate, horny moans making it past his bitten-red lips. It’s very possible that one of the neighboring apartments just heard him climax, but that really is the least of his problems. 

Truthfully, it’s the best fucking orgasm he’s had in weeks. He hates himself for it. Hates himself for all the time it takes for his body to calm down.

Like a rapidly healing cut, he gets over it. Not completely, inside he’s still seething at their shamelessness, can’t get the image of the two of them sharing a microphone and giving each other bedroom eyes to nauseum out of his head. But the stabbing feeling in his gut has mostly died down to passive anger, a feeling he deals with more often than not. He’s still drunk and unable to deal with himself beyond stumbling to his bathroom, wiping the spunk off his hand with paper towels, and pissing away some of that whiskey while he’s there. It’s all in a stupor. He doesn’t want to deal with any of what just happened, he just wants to pass out and deal with it tomorrow after his hangover. 

In the morning, he’ll think about how his anger controlled him again. He’ll think about how he punched the former frontman of the glam rock movement in the face. He’ll think about how pathetic it is to feign emotional ownership over someone who he’s made very clear, in his mind and to Nathan himself, that he doesn’t want a relationship with. Someone who he only wants to fuck when he’s really shitfaced and mean like this. He’ll hate himself for a little while, and it’ll make his music better. He won’t apologize, but they won’t talk about it again because the music is what’s important, not who’s feelings got hurt by who. 

He’ll still be searingly and violently jealous of what they have, but, hey. That’s what the whiskey’s for.

***

“Fuck.”

The word leaves their mouths at the same time, a brief break in gasps and pants as they both catch their breath. Pickles’ legs unlock from around Nathan’s waist, and they both let any tension in their bodies go all at once. Nathan rests his head on Pickles’ chest, making a satisfied noise as the drummer plays with his long hair. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, suddenly remembering all this started because Pickles got beaten to shit. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Real good, actually. I needed that.” Pickles laughs breathlessly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” Nathan stands up, pulling out of him and throwing away the condom. “God, we’re gonna smell so bad going home.”

“Eh, worth it.” Pickles grabs a fistful of toilet paper from the long discarded roll, starting to clean himself up. Nathan does the same. “That was… real fun, y’know? We should do it again sometime.” Nathan feels his face heat up again at that. 

“Y-Yeah. We should.”

“...oh man, can ya imagine how pissed Magnus would be if he knew about this?” Pickles laughs, tossing his wad of toilet paper into the small trash can and missing it by a mile. 

“Jesus, we’re not telling him about this.”

“Aw, why? It’ll be fun t’see him get all pissy ‘n jealous again.”

“Yeah, it’ll be fun for about two seconds and then we’ll both be in the hospital.”

“It’ll still be fun though.” Pickles hops down off the counter, retrieving his pants and putting them back on. “We should get goin’. It’s gettin’ late.”

“Yeah, probably…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll leave ya a little souvenir.” Pickles shoves something into Nathan’s back pocket and stands on tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Thanks again, Nate. See ya tomorrow.” He’s gone before Nathan can even say anything in reply, dashing off in tight pants out of the door to the warehouse. Nathan lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and reaches back to his pocket to see what Pickles could have possibly put there. He holds it up, and feels his entire face flush again when he realizes that he’s holding Pickles’ underwear. 

_Motherfucker-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! My wonderful boyfriend (@sicknvile on tumblr) wrote like half of the Magnus parts of this fic, and I truly could not have done it without him. I hope you enjoyed! Please do comment if you did! They give me the inspiration to keep writing. My tumblr is @metalnmagick if you want to see more from me or request anything!  
> Thank you again so much for reading! <3

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed and want to see more from me, please feel free to leave a comment! They're my main source of motivation. I have other really short mtl drabbles I may post if this gets some good reception, so yeah! Let me know!  
> My tumblr is metalnmagick if you wanna follow me there and request stuff!   
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! <3


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